1st after Christmas. Work nights again. Quite uneventful really and I knicked off home at 10.30 quite unnoticed by the half-doped journalists who remain. Feel miserable sat on the bus and realise only too well that Christmas is over for yet another year.
See the end of a Humphrey Bogart film and retire to bed. A relief that I do not have to work again until next year ... Jan 2, to be exact.
Oh, I've forgotten to mention that I have been looking after the Walton's keys next door while they went off to see relatives in Colchester. OK, what's startling about that? Well, last night they were burgled, by burglars no less! Mum is on the verge of a breakdown from the trauma and excitement of it all.
Uncle Peter arrived just before lunch.
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The journal of a Yorkshire lad from the age of 17 in 1973 through several decades .... Transcribing from handwritten volume to blog may take some time ...
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Saturday August 31, 1985
Moorhouse Inn Hilda: blue. Wet day. The marriage of Diane Gadsby and Paul Anthony Edwards at Pudsey St Lawrence. Ally went off at 8:30am to...

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Moorhouse Inn 2nd Sunday in Lent with dear Phyllis. Drizzle. Up for a full-English. Samuel is much better behaved without the influence of ...
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Moorhouse Inn Cold and quiet. Dave Glynn phoned tonight but Ally and I were in the cellar, and when we phoned back Lily said that David has...
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